A Promise of Home
by Ballettmaus
Summary: It's not a case but Stella who has Mac intrigued on Christmas Eve and on a rare impulse he gives in to curiosity.


Thank you Lily-Moonlight for reading through and correcting my many versions!

I'm wishing everyone a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

* * *

Snow had begun to fall. The first since the thin blanket which had covered the city had melted away again at the beginning of December. Now though he was sure it would stick. Temperatures had been below 30 for the past week and the flakes were thick and many, uniting and filling holes quickly with a layer of white.

A glance at his watch, a sigh. The lab was empty bar the handful of lab techs and him; the emergency staff it always operated on over Christmas and technically, even he shouldn't be where he was. He was on call, just like Stella but contrary to her, he had opted to actually be in the office – and he hadn't been able to deny the twinge of disappointment that had spread through him when she had left about half an hour ago. She hadn't asked if he would care to join her like she had done so often during those kind of "on-call" shifts; neither had she stopped for a brief chat nor said where she was going. All he had gotten was an "I gotta run, see you later" before she had rushed out of the lab, leaving him without any chance of reply.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips at the memory, her bouncing curls still so vivid in his mind, her eyes still seeming to sparkle in front of him. There were days when Stella seemed to be full of endless energy and he was sure she would have been able to find something to be enthusiastic about the paperwork set out on his desk. But without her presence the single word which popped into his head was dreadful.

His smile turning wistful, he rubbed a hand over his neck then picked up the file again. He was almost through and eventually reached the end, making it official with his signature before he shut the folder. It was thrown onto the small stack of other completed files and he grabbed a new one from the significantly larger pile at the opposite end of his desk. After a couple of sentences, however, his concentration faded once more, his thoughts drifting back to the woman he had worked beside the whole day.

There was always a reason for Stella's moods, whether they were positive or negative and ever since he had caught on to today's cheerfulness, he had speculated about it. Sure, it was Christmas Eve, grounds enough for Stella to be in the best of moods, still, there was something else that had driven her, an excitement he hadn't been able to explain and that had intrigued him.

He had asked, not directly but in his own unmistakable way yet he hadn't received a response – at least none to his satisfaction. Nevertheless he hadn't given it another try; she _had_ answered the question and he wasn't one to push, though he now wondered if he shouldn't have. His paperwork would surely have benefited from it if he had and throwing another glance at it, he closed the file decisively. He pulled out his phone as firmly and called her number to the screen then halted. Yet he had entered the command to dial an instant later and waiting for the connection to be established, he shifted his chair back to the window. Snow continued its steady journey to the ground and he sent a quick prayer that people were smart enough to stay indoors or to use public transport; weather-related accidents certainly weren't his favorite part of the job…

"Please, no." She sounded disappointed, the greeting so unexpected that all Mac managed was a bewildered "what?"

"Where do you want me?" Her reluctance prompted its usual twinge of sympathy; yet tonight it was not enough to prevent the slight smile his lips formed into as he realized that she assumed it was a duty call.

"Mac?"

"Yes." Collecting his thoughts, he cleared his throat but she was faster, asking for the address where she should meet him.

"How about you give me yours?" Silence was the sole response to his request until she broke it with another question in return.

"Why?" She seemed suspicious and he considered a vague reply to fuel her puzzlement. He opted against it, though halted before he could explain; a thought that he hadn't contemplated previously striking him.

"Are you some place public?" The words almost tumbled from his mouth; she hadn't mentioned _someone_ yet that didn't mean he was free to join her wherever she was and invading her privacy had been the last thing on his mind.

"Public?" She seemed utterly confused now and there was another period of silence following. "This isn't a duty call, is it?"

"Not quite." Forming on his face was his equivalent of a grin. "No." To that, she muttered something he didn't understand but he ignored it, the repeat of his question tentative. "So… are you…?"

"Some place public?" Amusement was added to her voice. "I would say I am. – And I'm decent, too." The grin he knew was plastered across her face was unmistakably audible and he was about to offer a smart reply when he was cut off. "Mac, I have to go. – And you should as well or you'll be late. I'll text you the address."

With that, she hung up, the faint teasing, delight and invitation that had swung in her voice lost in the confusion with which he gazed at his phone as if it could clear it up. But all it did was vibrate with the announcement of a new text message and caught up with the present, he called it to the screen. That he wasn't familiar with the location added to his curiosity and grabbing his suit jacket on the go, he left his office, stepping into the elevator not much later.

...

Confirming once more that the address the navigation system of the car had led him to was one and the same with the location Stella had given him, Mac finally shut off the engine and slid out of the vehicle. He joined the people climbing the stairs and entered through the two heavy wooden doors, mingling with the huge crowd already filling the church. Even more surprised, he looked around, unable to discover Stella anywhere. Instead he caught a poster to one side of the wall and his brows rose in astonishment, at the same time though, he understood.

He took one of the programs he was handed by a teenager, nodding at the information that the last seats available were on the gallery. It was where he settled a couple of minutes later, looking around with interest. Wooden structures complimented the old construction, candles burned and out of habit, he eyed the crowd; he was surrounded by couples, by small families, larger families and it seemed he was the only person who had come alone. Sorrow threatened to overwhelm him but then he spotted Stella several feet below, in a group of people and it was only seconds until his eyes sought out hers. They still sparkled, brighter even, their gazes holding while she took her place within the choir and a small smile lit up her face all the more. He returned it, carefully, as if someone might notice a forbidden message passed between them, remembering, and knowing that she did, too.

She had mentioned the choir a few years ago when he had first been introduced to Sister Agnes – her favorite and as far as he had been able to tell that feeling was mutual – yet the sister's curiosity in him had denied him the chance to ask any further. Several circumstances had prevented the topic from coming up again but tonight held the same promises of the past and they finally seemed to comprehend.

The lights were dimmed, the moment broken and an ocean of candles was left to illuminate the church as the first notes of organ music floated through the building. Its acoustical echo captured the listeners instantly then the choir joined, creating an atmosphere of surrealism, enchanting even more. Outside, snowflakes went on sailing to the ground, peeking into the windows behind the choir, merging with their white robes as warm light cast them in the golden glint of the angels they sang about. They sank into a gleam of mystery, each song leading further away from actuality and towards a place that lay beyond reality and the end came almost abruptly, a full five seconds passing until applause erupted.

Bells announcing midnight, accompanied the congregation leaving the church, chatting, humming, smiling. In no hurry, Mac was one of the last to depart, his gaze wandering from the little groups lingering in front of the steps to a small throng rounding the building towards its back. He was hesitant but followed and found himself inside a cramped foyer before he had made up his mind whether to go in or wait outside. The flow of the crowd took him deeper into the annexed building and from behind the cold-shielding curtain, a flood of people dressed in white revealed themselves. Voices blurred together, laughter rang, merry Christmas wishes drowned out everything else and suddenly he stood next to her.

"Hey." Her eyes still full of their spark, a smile appeared on her face and he echoed her greeting. His brows though rose the same instant while a twinkle inched into his own gaze.

"You call that decent?"

She looked stunning in her white evening gown, the tight cut making her appear even taller than she was. Yet it could definitely be argued whether it would normally be considered appropriate church-wear.

"It's the sole white garment I posses." Laughter was audible beneath the layers of defensiveness, even so, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I could hardly have worn black underneath a white robe."

"Would there have been a difference as far as the cut is concerned?" He regarded her slyly and she grinned in response to his teasing. "Did any of the nuns see you like that?" The light comments came with ease; he seemed to take far too much pleasure out of them and her eyes narrowed at him.

"I'm sure they never expected _me_ to become a nun." She offered him another grin.

"I hope they didn't."Although his features were dead-serious, mischief filled his eyes and enjoying her struggle for a reply, he took the coat she was holding.

"I'll take that as a compliment." He almost chuckled over her tone, but just offered a warm smile, helping her into the thick winter coat without any further remark. Her arm then looped through his and she nudged him gently towards his right, taking him with her for the few personal goodbyes she wanted to say. Curious looks were bestowed upon him, demanding introductions which she complied with willingly, the look they shared gaining in meaning with each presentation.

His arm had wound its way around her waist by the time they wended their way over to Sister Agnes and they chatted a bit with the head of the choir before she insisted that Stella promise not to make herself so rare. Accompanied by the playful reminder of the importance of keeping promises, they headed for the door an instant later, snowflakes their welcome upon stepping outside.

Glancing to his side, Mac was met with her eyes yet she drew away again quickly. She needed a moment to organize past and present and he comprehended, the arm which was still wrapped around her waist pulling her a little closer. He led her towards the street in companionable silence and it wasn't until they reached the car that his arm finally slid from her body. She didn't move though, didn't react, and he waited patiently for her to state what was obviously on her mind, she, however, remained quiet, studying him like he began to study her.

Snowflakes had settled in her curls, glittering exactly like her eyes when catching the light, and illuminated from only one side he found that mystery engulfed her even stronger than those long minutes ago.

"Why didn't you tell me you were singing tonight?" The question was soft and he watched the focus return to her gaze but all she offered was a distant shrug.

"We hardly seemed to have had time for 'good mornings' lately." A trace of apology lay in her voice even though it wasn't her fault any more than his that people had decided to go stir-crazy the weeks leading up to Christmas. "You were rarely in the office when my shifts were over and the couple of times you were, you were screaming at Sinclair over the phone." The outline of a smile flashed across his lips. "And the two or three times we shared a coffee, I chickened out. Just like I did when I left the lab earlier." She gave him a sheepish glance that he responded to with wonder. "I haven't sung in ages."

"Like I would have noticed." He wasn't reproaching or accusing; it was simply a reminder that, while he was great with his bass, he wouldn't be able to hit a right note with his voice if his life depended on it and she smirked. To that, he did throw her a look of reproach, the upward twitching of his lips though giving him away before both their smiles faded. Silence fell between them again, snow crouching under people's feet who walked by, enhancing the stillness they were almost oblivious to. It was their eyes which spoke, the conversation in a code they were absorbed in; finally dared to begin to decipher.

"Walk with me?" The hope could only have been ignored by the deaf but all he did was look at her for another moment and she smiled at him warmly. "Don't they say that you're never far from home?"

Puzzled, he was about to ask when he noticed for the first time how close her last move had led her back to where she had grown up and surprise flashed across his features before it was replaced by contemplation.

"Is it home?" The words were barely audible, his eyes possessing the strength his voice didn't.

"It's the only home I've ever known." Her answer was as quiet and a whisper of melancholy breezed past them.

"So, are you going to walk me back?" Depressed thoughts pushed aside, the corners of her lips curled up once more and so did his. The implication was obvious, however, in place of a reply, he let his eyes drop down her body.

"In those shoes?"

"No, you can keep wearing yours." She grinned at him and it took him a moment to realize why, a mocking glare his lone answer. Yet he agreed to her request and they turned to their right, finding themselves to be the sole ones on the street a block later. Few footsteps marred the snow, a fair amount of it already accumulated and it was their feet it now crunched under. They walked side by side comfortably, their breaths visible in front of them, fading into the darkness as shadows danced where street lamps lit their path. Snow glimmered in the warm light, spread out like a magic carpet, covering the city with enchantment. Secluding them from a world that couldn't have been more at peace.

They reached for each other's hand simultaneously, their fingers intertwining with the greatest naturalness. Not a glance passed between them; none was needed and they walked on comfortably, entirely at ease in each other's company.

"So, all of you used to be at 's?" Mac's deep voice flowed with the night and it was now that they exchanged a brief look.

"Some of them still are." He nodded at her response, recalling some of the young faces of those who had stood in the first row of the choir. "But, yes, we were all left in the care of the nuns for one reason or another." Sadness flickered across her features, memories of a past that had robbed her of so many childhood treasures and he squeezed her hand which lay nestled safely within his, conveying the comfort and everything else he wasn't able to put into words. She understood, like she always understood his wordless gestures, and offered one in return; a look that was filled with secrets of times long gone, that held emotions of the present, was the door to the future. A door which was wide open and all there was left was the step through it; over the threshold they stood right in front of.

Yet it was a different path they continued walking, her gloom soon replaced by a small smile.

"I hated being in the choir. I loved the singing, however, Sunday's were the mornings we were allowed to sleep in a little. But, being in the choir, I had to be up by eight so we would be ready for the first service at nine while everyone else attended the second at eleven." The smile had grown into a full-fledged grin which he found to be contagious. He had no difficulties imagining a sleepy Stella, rubbing her tired eyes, grumbling at the early hour; she had treated him to that – the grumbling, at least – more than once at early morning crime scenes and it was a sight he had secretly come to adore.

"Why did you stay then?" His curiosity was awakened and he threw her a sideways glance.

"I wanted to sing – and it was the only church related activity I liked." She paused for a second. "And it was led by Sister Agnes."

She turned her head, making their gazes meet and he smiled knowingly.

"I didn't even know it was the choir's anniversary until I got the call a few months ago." She appeared to be addressing herself rather than him, her voice having become as distant as her look. "I haven't been in touch for so long…"

Not quite sure what to reply, Mac studied her but her steps were slowing and he realized that they were coming to a halt a few feet from the entrance to her apartment building. Their hands still entwined, they shifted so that they stood almost opposite each other, neither quite ready to say goodnight. Silence filled with expectation and he opened his mouth, only to shut it a second later. His gaze dropped to where their hands were still linked and he found them so complimenting, modeled to fit. They seemed to have blended with one another, precisely like they as people always seemed to blend and raising his eyes back to level with hers, he attempted to say something again. He didn't when he felt her move backwards, slowly, gliding almost, and he followed her guidance, stopping once she did, looking at her as more moments went by that they weren't willing to use to part.

It was her who shifted first, slightly, the connection of their hands never lost and he lowered his eyes back to their joined hands, letting them drift to the keys lying in her other palm. They shone in the light falling onto them from different angles, snowflakes surviving a few seconds on the cool metal before they melted away like his hand melted around hers.

"Don't you think it's time to create a true place to call home?" The deep, soothing timbre of his voice was all that was audible and he held her gaze with a power only he was allowed to have over her.

She didn't answer, not verbally; she didn't have to. Her eyes spoke clearer than any words could have and he lifted his hand from hers, grazing her face with the faintness of a snowflake's touch. His fingertips slid over her temple, to her cheekbone, lingering until she reached for his hand. Their fingers reconnected, keys – now warm – in between their palms, transferring from her hand into his.

"I do."

It was no more than a breath, its weight tremendous, sinking into them with ease and he smiled. Not so much with his lips than within his look, his features, and tightening the grip on one hand, he let go of the other. An instant passed, a brief glance was shared, hesitation ceded to decision; but she inched closer and he did, too, their eyelids dropping, shutting and then it was only a second until their lips met.

For a long moment they remained motionless, their bodies filling with sensations never experienced before, their joined hands gliding apart as they crossed into the world of togetherness.

He cupped her face tenderly, his mouth just as gentle as it tasted hers. Her arms circled around his waist, uniting them even further and they sank willingly. Into emotions, affection, a far-away land they stood right in the middle of. They explored with incredible softness, gave and took, discovered what had been beyond their imagination and pulled apart so slowly that it appeared time had come to a halt.

He kept her face in his hands with the delicacy he would have handled porcelain, his thumbs caressing her skin with the same lightness his fingertips had earlier and it was in one slow movement that their eyelids finally fluttered open. The shining green of her eyes captured him instantly; drowning him in the same pool of emotions they were nourished from and he met her lips once more. Shorter than before, lingering and caressing, until her hand found his, her fingers linking with his as she led them gently away from her face.

A moment later he had opened the door, holding it as he held on to her and they then stepped through; over that threshold into their future, into the promise of home.


End file.
